Home at Last

So I am a bit behind on updating this thing.

My last couple weeks in Jerusalem were a bit hectic. In between finishing classes, studying for my Hebrew level exam, trying to get some of my papers written and final sightseeing, there wasn't a lot of time for much else. And truth be told, I wasn't in the right mental frame of mind to post. I was dealing with the normal end of the semester stress but also was having mixed feelings about leaving Israel.

I had been counting down the weeks, days, hours until I would be on a plane home, but as the end neared, I started thinking about what I would be leaving behind. Yes, there was so much to look forward to at home - family, friends, a decent mattress, home-cooked meals, my church family, and of course, my godbaby and her first birthday - but there were also things in Israel that I would miss - starting with my new friends and the beauty of the place, with the feeling of the holy so thick it was smothering at times.

At church this morning, worship centered on celebrating creation and its goodness. I couldn't help but think about Israel, about how holiness oozed out of every atom. There, the holy is inescapable. But the truth of the matter is that Israel is no more holy than Ohio, not really. What makes Israel holy is its connection to God. God created it, and God settled God's people in it. But God created everything, and all people are God's people, so every place is holy. We just forget it because we become so accustomed to our surroundings. But Jerusalem is by nature a disorienting city, and I think that is why we find it to be so holy - and yes, because we have imbued it with so much religious meaning.

In my final days in Jerusalem, I did do something I had not yet done: I waded through Hezekiah's Tunnel in the City of David. It is a pretty cool (and cold!) experience. The tunnel is longer than I imagined - I mean, I knew it was long, but when you are walking through it, it seems so much longer! And you can see where the workers chiseled away and even where they met in middle. I really enjoy the City of David, and it was nice to have extra time to wander around and see everything again and from new angles.

I left Israel on Monday (June 13). I will spare you the horror stories of El Al security, but I will say I had all my luggage searched, wasn't allowed to carry my laptop on the plane with me and was literally strip-searched. And then the flight was delayed. Originally we were supposed to fly out at 10:40am, but a few days before, we were notified that the flight was changed to 11:50am. By the time we actually left it was more like 2pm, which means I missed my connecting flight. Actually, I probably could have made it, if El Al would have printed my boarding pass for me. And it was a total nightmare getting my flight re-booked and then the voucher for a hotel and dinner. I finally made it home Tuesday around noon.

As I told someone at church today, I am glad I went and that I had that experience but it was not an experience I plan on repeating. Of course I will return to Israel, but not for an extended time like that. I learned so much and grew so much as a person. It was something I needed to do for me. Despite all the health problems, despite how much I disliked city life, despite how ridiculously expensive Jerusalem is, despite the nightmare of El Al security - despite it all, I am glad I went and if I could go back and do it all over, I wouldn't change a thing.

So with that, "Experiencing Jerusalem" comes to an end. Of course, I will continue to "experience" it for many months and years to come, to live with the memories and, of course, to process all that happened.

The End is Near...

Lost three of my four roommates this weekend, so now it is just me and Annie, like it was in the beginning. Becky had been with us for a week, but she went back to her base this morning, so I had to say goodbye to her - she won't be coming back until after I leave. So sad!

Rothberg is a whole lot quieter now that the undergrads have all went back home. No annoying kids conversing in the middle of the stairs or yelling across the cafeteria and leaving messes - not to mention no more inappropriately dressed girls running around! Hopefully that means the kfar will be a bit quieter as well. There are Israelis and Arabs living in the kfar, but it seems to be the undergrads who are loud and partying at all hours. Not that I don't enjoy having a good time, but as every grad student will tell you, there is so much work to get done in the next couple of weeks!

I fly home two weeks from today, which is super exciting but also super distracting. Even with the extra time we have to write papers after the semester ends, I am still feeling the end-of-the-semester stress. For one thing, I know I am not going to write 5 papers after I get home, so I am trying to get at least 2 of them written before I leave. I have one of them mostly written - 8 1/2 pages out of 10. I have also been slacking on my Hebrew studying, although Kristin and I kicked butt on our oral exam. The only real thing I have left before I leave is the Hebrew final on June 12th. I will also probably give a presentation in one of my classes, about the paper I have almost finished, but that is dependent upon how much the prof talks today and who (and in what order) presents next week. Oh, I guess I also have an oral exam in my methodology class - I guess I better schedule that and review the texts! Hard to believe a week from today is the last day of class! Today is the end-of-the-year party, with Ben & Jerry's :)

As you can probably tell, I don't really have a lot to report - but am desperately avoiding paper-writing!

A Confession and a Whole Lot of Reflection

I have a confession: In addition to my blog, I have also been keeping an old fashioned journal. My first semester, I was very diligent about writing in it every night, recording even some of the more mundane aspects of life abroad. But this semester, I have been rather lax. Perhaps I got out of the habit when my parents were visiting back in January and just never got back into the groove. As it is, I am lucky to get to it weekly, and sometimes weeks or even a month (or more!) goes by without a single entry.

And there are many weeks that I struggle with posting an update here.

The problem is not that as time goes on I have less to say but rather that I do not know how to put into words what I am experiencing, what I am feeling. It's been a rough semester - been sick a lot, haven't been able to sleep, lacking energy, missing home - and that's just what is going on with me personally. There were all the rockets Gaza launched into Israel, the bombing in downtown that killed a Rothberg student, Israel's return-fire on Gaza that not only killed terrorists but also innocent children, the assassination of Bin Laden, the death of an Palestinian teen at the hands of the IDF, and most recently, the events of Nakba Day (the day the Arabs mourn the establishment of the State of Israel, which usually includes some form of violence). And that, I know, is just a short list of the highlights.

Perhaps I should be afraid, and maybe I am a little bit, sometimes. But for the most part, fear is not part of my daily life. I go to class, study, buy groceries at the corner store once or twice a week, go to synagogue. Occasionally, I take the bus to the center of town, to go to dinner with friends or to make a trip to the shuk. I watch TV, talk to Mom, miss my Gabby-girl and play with Sierra instead.

Sometimes I feel numb, like I am just going through the motions. Sometimes I forget that I am in Israel; other times, I wonder how the hell I ended up here in the first place. Why in the world would I ever choose to move halfway around the world to Jerusalem?!? (And perhaps more importantly, why did my parents allow me to do so?!?) And yet I know that I have grown more in these past 7 1/2 months than the rest of my life combined. I know that I needed to come here in order to become the person I need to be, the person I want to be. I thought I came here to learn at Hebrew U, but the most important lessons I have learned have mainly been outside the classroom walls.

And despite it all, despite how excited I am to be leaving in three weeks, I can hardly believe that the school year is almost up, that I will be re-packing my life into 2 suitcases and moving back home, leaving all this behind. I have no desire to stay in Israel - as one of my friends here said, Israel quickly loses its appeal, especially if you are not Jewish - but I will miss the friends I have made, the people whose lives have touched and affected mine, who I would have never met if I didn't decide on a total whim to apply. And I know that home is not going to be the same home that I left. Many of my friends at MTSO graduated yesterday; most of them I will not see again. My goddaughter will turn one three days after I return, and another friend just had a baby on Thursday. I will not know most of the student body come fall, since I did not have a chance to meet any of the 2010 new students. My friends will have new friends, and I will have to learn how to adjust. A whole year will have went by, a whole year of which I was not a part.

And yet, I know that somehow, everything will be just fine.

East Jerusalem, An Alien City

I came to Israel with my trusty Tanakh as my only book, though I have since acquired a kindle. My roommate Annie, however, somehow managed to pack an entire bookcase. Annie, being her generous self, has lent me several books throughout the school year, most recently The Amos Oz Reader, a collection of essays from many of Amos Oz's books. A week ago, I read "An Alien City" from Under This Blazing Light, published in 1968. It is mostly reflections on Jerusalem prior to the Six Day War, ending with the reunification of Jerusalem after the 1967 war. While things have changed a lot in the past 63 years and especially in the past 44 years, much of it is still a relatively accurate portrayal of life in Jerusalem today - especially life in East Jerusalem, and the life of an international student.

Thus, I would like to share several quotes from the essay, along with my reflections.

First, on life prior to 1967:

I knew that Jerusalem was surrounded by forces that wanted me dead.

Later I moved away from Jerusalem. I still love the city as one loves a disdainful woman. Sometimes, when I had nothing better to do, I used to go to Jerusalem to woo her.

I liked Jerusalem because it was a city at the end of the road, a city you could get to but never go through, and also because Jerusalem was never really part of the State of Israel: with the exception of a few streets, it always maintained a separate identity, as though it was deliberately turning its back on all those flat white commercial towns: Tel Aviv, Holon, Herzlia, Netanya.

And there was fear in Jerusalem: an inner fear that must never be named or expressed in words, but that gathered, accumulated, solidified in winding alleys and isolated lanes.

All my childhood years were spent in the proximity of streets that must not be approached, dangerous alleyways, scars of war damage, no-man's-land.

And, life after 1967:

My dreams had deceived me, the nightmares were unfounded, the perpetual dread had suddenly been transformed into a cruel arabesque joke.

Jerusalem is mine, yet a stranger to me; captured and yet resentful; yielding, yet withdrawn.

Living in Jerusalem today, one still has this sense of fear, the fear that "the Other" is out to get you. For the Israelis, the fear is of the Palestinians; for the Palestinians, the fear is of the Israelis. Whether or not the fear is founded is another issue. I have lived through a bombing in Jerusalem at the hands of Palestinian terrorists that killed one of my classmates, but I have also lived through the Israeli revenge air strike that took out innocent children in addition to terrorists. I live within walking distance of the security wall. I see how the Israelis have forced the Palestinians out and how they can make their life a living hell just because. While I do not live in fear, I see others around me who do, and the longer I am here, the more muddled the issue becomes. I still support the Palestinians, but I also realize that they are not without their faults, that they have indeed things to warrant, at least on occasion, Israeli fear. And still today, even though the city is "reunified," there is still a sense that there are certain places in the city to which one must not go. Of course, I am stubborn and think that my Americanness will spare me any real harm, so I tend to ignore these unspoken rules, especially when the reasoning is "you can't go to such-and-such place because it is Arab." I fear the Old City vendors more than I fear the Arab neighborhoods.

Even today, I get the sense that Jerusalem is in a league of its own, the capital of Israel and yet still not part of Israel. To be sure, Jerusalem is in its own way a microcosm of the state, a place where the ultra-religious and the wholly secular meet, a place that is sacred to all the monotheistic faiths. It is an interesting city, to be sure, one that I still don't seem to have a handle on, but I always feel this sense of relief when I manage to get out of the city, even just for a few hours. Perhaps it is because I have never really lived in a city. Its very hugeness can be oppressive at times. On a few occasions, I have went out on my own, to the market and once to the Old City. It is a surreal experience. For one thing, riding the bus by myself has always been unsettling, trying to figure out what stop I need, forced to sit by a stranger - or worse, forced to stand and be thrown about like a rag doll. And then knowing how to interact with people, both on and off the bus. Do I say "shalom" to the ultra-orthodox man or do I avert my gaze? Do I make room for the Arab family to pass or do I just ignore them? (Will my politeness be interpreted as a form of racism?) Do I try to speak Hebrew or just ask in English? (For the record, almost always when I ask a question in Hebrew it is answered in English.) While a simple outing can be refreshing, it can also be mentally exhausting.

I think Amos Oz captures the essence of Jerusalem, at least for me. "Jerusalem is mine, yet a stranger to me," and "I still love the city as one loves a disdainful woman." This place has been my home for the past 7+ months, and even though I am counting down the days till I am back in Ohio, back to my real home, I know that I will miss Jerusalem. As frustrating as the city is, there is something about it. Maybe there is something in the water, but the city seems to get in your blood. My heart never quite left Ohio, but I have a feeling that my heart will never quite leave Israel either.

Life and Death, Joy and Sorrow

Monday morning, shortly after 8:30am, I was sitting in Hebrew class, my first class after the nearly 2 1/2 week Pesach break, wishing I was still curled up in bed. The teacher was asking us something in Hebrew, but I didn't quite catch it. I looked at my friend Kristin, who was sitting beside me, and she whispered "the news." I shrugged my shoulders. I tend to take an "ignorance is bliss" approach to the news. I thought maybe the teacher was referring to something about Holocaust Remembrance Day, which that day was. One of the Korean students responded, and the teacher repeated her answer so we could all hear it. (Half the class is Korean, and they all speak so softly, at least in Hebrew, that no one can hear what they say.) I heard her say "bin Laden," and I was a bit confused. What did bin Laden have to do with the Holocaust? (Clearly, I was only half-paying attention.) Then, to make sure we all understood, the teacher repeated the news in English (an extremely rare occurrence in Hebrew class). Bin Laden was dead? The classroom broke out in a buzz of English and Korean as we all processed the news. I looked at Kristin again, and in disbelief, I asked her, "Haven't we already killed him like ten times?" (I was actually thinking about Hussein and the public airing of his hanging which interrupted my Friday evening TV viewing a few years ago and how later there were rumors, maybe even confirmations, that we actually killed his double.) Kristin shrugged.

Bin Laden was dead. In a split second, I was back in sophomore honors English, where at around 9:45am on 9/11/01 our teacher took us to the library to watch the news coverage of the attack on the Twin Towers. We watched in utter disbelief and complete terror as they re-played the footage of the planes hitting the buildings over and over, as if it was on some sort of loop. We could see little specks falling to the ground - people jumping to their deaths. And then, one of the towers collapsed right before our eyes, live on TV. Most of us had just come from Chamber Singers, and someone suddenly said, "What about our trip?" Our choir was scheduled to go to NYC in just a couple of months, right before Thanksgiving. My eyes were still fixed on the TV, waiting for the scene to change, for someone to say it was just part of some cruel movie. Even when I realized it was indeed a terrorist attack, my 15-year-old brain couldn't understand what that meant. Why would it affect our trip plans? Why would it affect anything? Al-Qaeda, Taliban, bin Laden, Hussein - these weren't part of my vocabulary. At best, I had a vague recollection of what they were. I'm not so sure I even knew what the Twin Towers were before that day.

By the time my thoughts had returned to the present, just a few seconds later, the teacher had already moved on. It was as if she had just announced the date of the oral exam, not the assassination of the US's most wanted man.

I wasn't able to get online to check the news until a few hours later, after Hebrew class and after the Holocaust Remembrance Ceremony hosted by Rothberg. I skimmed a few news stories reporting the ambush on the compound and the DNA confirmation that it was indeed bin Laden. I found a link to the text of Obama's speech. And then I turned to facebook to see what the reactions were of my friends back in the US. Since arriving in Israel, I haven't really followed my newsfeed; it is pretty much impossible to keep up with everyone half a world a way so I don't really try. But that day, I wanted to see what people were thinking and saying, mainly because I wasn't so sure how I felt. I found mixed responses: many were joyously celebrating the death of bin Laden, but others were denouncing the death of anyone, even someone as evil as bin Laden. While I was disturbed at the sort of enjoyment some seemed to get out of the news, I was equally appalled by the sense of righteous indignation that others seemed to be displaying. I don't mean to criticize anyone; we are all entitled to our own thoughts and feelings, especially in response to something like the death of bin Laden. But as someone who is currently living in the Middle East, I can tell you that we (for the most part) feel neither joy or sorrow at the death of bin Laden. While some of my friends here have joked about it now being safer to live in Israel that the US (although I still maintain that Ohio is pretty much the safest place to be - I mean, who is going to attack a bunch of cornfields?), the truth is, none of us see the point behind it. Yes, bin Laden was a bad man and the world is probably better off without him. His death, however, does not solve anything. Al-Qaeda still exists and will continue to exist. A new leader will emerge and vengeance will be taken, most likely on US soil. We're supposedly fighting over "there" (the Middle East) so we won't have to fight over "here" (the US), but the assassination of bin Laden will probably lead to bringing the war back home, even if it just momentarily.

Despite the news of bin Laden's death on Monday, we were all reminded that murder doesn't solve anything as we observed Holocaust Remembrance Day. Hilter and the Nazis celebrated the death of 11 million people - 6 million Jews and 5 million Roma (gypsies), homosexuals, developmentally delayed persons, African-Germans, Jehovah Witnesses and others - but in the end, life triumphed over death. On Monday, we mourned the loss of those 11 million people, but we also celebrated their lives. Most of them will remain nameless, faceless to me, their stories never reaching my ears, but that does not mean I can't cherish their lives, each as an individual. I remember one day in the Holocaust class I took in undergrad wondering, "What if Einstein had died in the Holocaust?" Einstein was, after all, a German-born Jew. Suddenly, almost in a panic, I realized that dozens, hundreds, thousands of Einsteins did die in the Holocaust. Who knows what those who died might have accomplished if they had lived? Many had already made important contributions before they were murdered. And so I celebrate their lives, not just what they did for society but also for who they were as children of God. And I mourn their deaths, the potential that was snatched away from them, the potential that we as a society were denied, the love that they had to share.

On Monday, I chose to celebrate the lives and mourn the deaths of those 11 million souls, and to celebrate the anniversary of the birth of my father. I chose not to celebrate nor mourn the death of bin Laden. I chose them over him.

Old City Vendors, Hiking & Sleepless Nights

Today is my last day of the break, although classes did resume today for those who had class. After a 2 1/2 week break, you would think I would be ready to return to class, but no, I really am not. I have rather enjoyed the laziness of sleeping in (when my body would cooperate) and the freedom to do whatever I felt like.

The past week has went by rather quickly. Pesach ended Monday at sundown, so Annie and I decided to celebrate in style and had our favorite, Focaccia's, for dinner. It was hametz-filled goodness. I spent some time with the baby on Tuesday, while her momma prepared for her 1st birthday party the next day. On Wednesday, I ventured into the Old City to do some souvenir shopping. I was intending to buy presents but ended up only buying for myself. And of course, I overstayed my welcome, meaning that I did not leave before the vendors started getting to me. I know they need to make a living, but they are so pushy! After the Old City was the birthday party, with Beth's amazing homemade cake & cupcakes, complete with homemade icing! The little one is all but walking now. I can't believe I am missing my godbaby's 1st birthday, even if it is just by 4 days. :-(

Annie and I visited En Gedi on Thursday, which was an adventure. First, Annie almost didn't get on the bus - she had to go to the ATM and by the time she got back and back in line, the bus was full. I couldn't get off because I already had my ticket punched. But somehow, by the grace of God, Annie was the very last person that was allowed to board the bus. It meant that she had to stand for a good chunk of the trip but at least we arrived together! We had no problem getting into the national park (even though my temporary pass has technically expired and I never called in to get the permanent one...). We hiked up to the waterfalls, which I had seen with my parents back in January, and then continued on to the Chalcolithic Temple (c. 3000 BCE). That hike all but killed me. It was steep, with a loose gravel/sand path and uneven steps. At one point we had to climb these steps that were between a cliff and a rock-wall. Instead of having a rail to keep us from falling down the cliff, there was a steel cable attached to the rock-wall. I was literally pulling myself up by the cable, all the while hearing my mom's voice freaking out in my head. We had to make frequent stops, mainly for me, but in the end we survived, even if I am still a bit sore! After we finished the hike, we visited the ancient synagogue, which dates to the 4th-6th c. CE - Annie's period. I saw it with my parents but there was school children on a field trip so we couldn't see it as much as I would have liked. But it was just me and Annie, so we took our time and I may have climbed on things I probably shouldn't have to take better photos, but I promise I didn't climb on anything too important...

I haven't really done much of anything the past few days. Just working on a midterm paper and studying Hebrew, and most importantly, trying to catch up on some much-needed rest. I did have coffee with my language buddy Ayana yesterday, at 4:30 in the afternoon, so I couldn't fall asleep last night - and then proceeded to wake up before 7am this morning. It is no wonder I am always exhausted and never have any energy - I probably don't get half the sleep here as I did at home! But I will be home before I know it and will probably wish I was back here.

Sacrifices, Seders and Artifacts

So I didn't get around to updating mid-week as planned, so I have lots to write about and in hopes of not forgetting anything, I'm just going to do a day-by-day report of break so far:

Sunday (17.4) - Beth called and asked if I wanted to go to the Samaritan Passover sacrifice with them. I was half-asleep, so I was sure I heard her wrong but I said yes anyways. (See, Meg, I am listening to you and saying yes to everything - whether or not I actually hear what I am being invited to do!) But we did indeed go to the Samaritan Passover sacrifice at Mount Gerizim. The Samaritans trace their genealogy back to the Northern Kingdom of Israel, defeated by the Assyrians in 722 BCE. Mount Gerizim was where their temple was, pretty much from the beginning. Today, there are fewer than 1,000 Samaritans left (the figures I saw/heard were 600 and 750). They are the only ones who still sacrifice lambs for Pesach (Passover), and the ceremony begins at sundown the day before Pesach begins. [Pesach began at sundown on Monday; the ceremony began at sundown on Sunday.] It was an interesting experience, and pictures will be up on facebook later today. Basically, all non-Samaritans (except some photographers) had to remain outside the temple complex, either in the stands or around the fences surrounding the complex. We sat on the bottom row of the stands, in the right corner, so basically we couldn't really see anything. The stands, as my pictures demonstrate, were also separated from the temple complex by a chain fence. I couldn't really understand what was going on, as everything was in Hebrew, and I couldn't tell who was who. Thankfully, I did not see them kill or skin the lambs, although I was able to see some of the headless, skinless lambs after they had been skewered to be roasted. We left at that point, as it was already past the baby's bedtime and we were an hour from Jerusalem. It is not something I would want to go to again, but I am glad I had the chance to go. The people in the stands were not very polite, and the mood in the stands was not all that holy. I felt more like a spectator than a participant or observer of a sacred rite. That part was frustrating, because the annual sacrifice is clearly a sacred rite, dating back to Moses, and that sanctity was disrupted for me by crowds straining to see and people yelling for those in front to sit down. Nevertheless, it was still nice to experience the religious traditions of another people of the Holy Land.

Monday (18.4) - Pesach officially began at sundown. The seder I attended was actually rather short; it started around 7pm and I was home by 12:30am. We skipped and/or summarized many parts because they wanted the children to experience as much of the seder as possible before they fell asleep. (Unlike many seders, no one tried to keep the children up through it all!) I had never been to a seder before, so I didn't always know what was going on, but I really enjoyed it. There were 14 of us: the host couple; their daughter, son-in-law and three grandchildren; two other relatives of the hosts (cousins or neice/nephew...not sure); a guy doing a gap year before college (as was the male relative); two young people who had recently made aliyah; and myself and another Rothberg (undergrad) student. The food was good, and there was so much of it! Appetizers, soup, two kinds of potatoes, two kinds of meats, couscous, at least two vegetables, fruit, and two different cakes for dessert! Lots of singing, too - both traditional Pesach songs and some written by various family members. We also incorporated some feminist elements to the seder. The seder plate included all the traditional items plus an orange. Apparently back when women were not allowed to lead synagogue (I'm not sure if they meant lead anything or just to be a rabbi), there was a saying that women belonged up front like an orange belonged on a seder plate. So, of course, women started including oranges on their seder plates. Also, in addition to the Elijah cup, we had a Miriam cup. It is traditional to have an empty chair and a wine cup for Elijah; but instead of pouring Elijah his own cup, we passed the cup around and we all poured some of our wine (or in my case, grape juice) into it. We did the same with the Miriam cup, but with water. It is a means of recognizing the importance of Miriam in the Exodus story (after all, she did kinda help keep Moses alive!). Another tradition is hiding a piece of matza for the children to find. Whoever finds it gets a prize, but of course, like every good grandmother, our host had a gift for each grandchild - and each of us young people! All in all, it was a wonderful evening.

Tuesday (19.4) - First day of Pesach. Pretty much everything was closed, and I didn't really do a whole lot, other than reading for classes. Also took a walk around French Hill (the neighborhood the kfar is in).

Wednesday (20.4) - Another low key day.

Thursday (21.4) - Went to the Bible Land Museum and the Botanical Garden, both of which were free for Pesach, with my friend Rebekah. The museum contains artifacts from periods and areas relating to the Bible (go figure!). It's not a very big place - we saw everything in about an hour and a half - but I was impressed with the quality of the artifacts. Some of it was even better preserved than what they have next door at the Israel Museum. After we finished at the museum, since it was nice out, we decided to walk down to the garden, which took a little while to find.There are two Hebrew U campuses in Jerusalem; Mount Scopus, the original campus and the one where the international school is located, and Givat Ram, which was built after 1948, when the original campus was inaccessible due to the outcome of the 1948 war. Both schools have botanical gardens. At Mount Scopus, our garden contains plants from all over Israel. The garden at Givat Ram, however, contains plants from all over the world and is huge. It was pretty, and Rebekah and I felt at home when we wandered into the section with plants from North America!

Friday (22.4) - The lovely miss Becky (Annie's little sister) joined us for the weekend. Becky made aliyah after high school and has been here almost two years now. The three of us had a laundry party - what else do you do on a Friday night when everything is closed for Shabbat? Other than that, I just did more homework.

Saturday (23.4) - More homework. And dinner with Annie and Becky. After Shabbat ended, we caught a bus to the center of town and ate at Spaghettis, a kosher restaurant that is also kosher for Pesach (כשר לפסח). So for the first (and probably last) time in my life, I had noodles (Alfredo) without hametz (literally, "the dough"). I am glad I went and experienced such cuisine, but it's not something I am hoping to repeat. The noodles were an interesting texture and were kinda chewy, but I got two meals out of them. Another staple during Pesach is, of course, matza. Apparently, there is some sort of unwritten rule that only non-Jews actually like matza (probably because we are not forced to eat it every year and can supplement it with other hametz-y foods). So, of course, I do indeed enjoy matza and ended up buying a 2.5 kg (~5.4 lbs) box of it at the store.

Today (24.4) - Easter! I figured since I am normally a heathen and don't go to church (other than Christmas Day), I should at least go on Easter. I went with Beth's family to St. George's Cathedral, an Episcopal Church. I had never been to an Episcopal (or Anglican) church before (at least not that I can recall), so that in itself made it an interesting experience. The bishop was there, along with several priests and a couple of what appeared to be priests-in-training (seminary students?). For Easter, they combine their English and Arabic speaking congregations. All the songs and responses were done simultaneously in English and Arabic, but it seemed like the majority of the liturgy (meaning the priests' parts) was done in Arabic. The Gospel and the sermon were both done first in Arabic and then in English. The first lesson was only done in Arabic - I don't even know what it was. I would have preferred it if the sermon was treated more like a translation - a sentence or two in Arabic, then in English. I'm an adult and even I had a hard time sitting through a sermon in a language I didn't understand! The poor little kids were all restless and there were lots of dirty looks being cast, but what can you expect? I'm sure they didn't even understand the sermon in their language. They also use a lot of incense, so I have had a headache pretty much all day. But it was a nice worship celebration.

I think that's pretty much it. I feel like I haven't gotten nearly enough accomplished, considering break is more than half over, but I am at least enjoying my break some.